Page 31 of The Diávolos: Part Two
I haven’t had a panic attack this severe in almost a year and my first instinct was to hurt myself.
One step forward, two steps back, I guess.
I chug the entire bottle of water.
Whenever I panic, I feel small and inferior. It takes me back to the first time I ever felt like this as a child. Hopeless. Right now, I feel like that juvenile version of me.
I breathe through the attack as I wait for Evander and Gianis to come back.
9
EVANDER
“You can be the moon and
still be jealous of the stars.”
—Gary Allan
It might be fucked up on my part to convince the woman I love to be okay with having her father killed, but this is different. He deserves to die.
I just want to take Angelica in my arms and squeeze the pain and panic away. But I know that’s not what she needs from me.
I’ve stayed away from her an entire year, and the first time we face each other, I torture her best friend, force her to her knees, and tell her I’m going to kill her father.
I’m an asshole.
“How are you feeling,moró?” I ask her as soon as I enter the room. But I can’t meet her eyes as I grapple with the unease and guilt in my chest.
She shrugs her shoulders. “Could be better.”
“We didn’t mean to overwhelm you,” I say with regret.
Angelica’s mouth turns down at the corners. “I really thought I’d be able to figure things out on my own.”
“Angeloúdi mou, you’ve accomplished so much this past year. This doesn’t count as a failure. Your father never had good intentions, so this isn’t on you.”
“I just want to know the truth,” she whispers under her breath, her complexion drained of its usual vibrance.
I kneel in front of her to grab her hands.
Whenever our bodies connect, my skin comes alive, an electric current running through my veins.
I feel like a man starved. A man who’s been forsaken.
Being touched by Angelica is like a revelation. Her touch is essential, and I am a dying flower in need of sunlight.
Her gaze immediately darts to the floor.
“And we’ll find it, my love,” I say softly. Angelica stiffens before looking up into my eyes. “You just have to trust me.”
I know I’m asking a lot of her. Losing Angelica’s trust created a heavy ache in my gut.
The previously familiar warmth in her gaze is now replaced with wariness, her jaw clenching.
Remorse twists within me with each thought, and I find myself longing to undo the choices I made that led to this rupture between us.
“So, what’s the plan?” Angelica asks with a little hesitation. “Something that doesn’t require the murder of the only family member I have left.”
